


Please, please, please let me have who I want

by Brilliant



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, The Smiths - Freeform, Uni!lock, drunk!lock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brilliant/pseuds/Brilliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is drunk. John is in love. And makes damn good mix CDs for his roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, please, please let me have who I want

**Author's Note:**

> The caption is from that one time Morrissey sang "let me have who I want" instead of "let me get what I want". I just sort of ran with it. This is just a silly one shot, not proofread or britpicked. Please let me know what you think! :-)

John had decided. This would be the night. He was going to tell all, going to tell Sherlock how much he liked him, how much he admired him, how much he would love for them to be together. He wasn't too sure about how Sherlock'd react, but he decided to at least try. Give it a go. And after deciding it, he almost felt at peace, joyful even. Thus, he hurried to their dorm room, preparing for the most embarrassing speech and thrilling night of his life.

He reached their door. Room 221. And heard muffled sounds of music playing inside, and, could it be - someone singing along? He already knew about Sherlock's infatuation with The Smiths, so it wasn't like music playing in their dorm was a surprise. But he'd never witnessed Sherlock actually singing along.

John opened the door and multiple things simultaneously became clear to him. First, someone had been drinking /alcohol/ in this very room, if the heavy, warm scent was anything to go on. Second, the song playing definitely wasn't one of The Smiths' - it was a woman singing, and he even recognized the song. Third, and fourth, and most importantly - Sherlock was drunk and Sherlock was singing. He was sat on his bed with a bottle of - beer? He'd never stoop so low and hated the taste; so possibly cider - in his hand, gesticulating - dancing - wildly with his arms, wiggling his torso and banging with his head. He was singing, loudly:

"Do you wanna touch -  
Me  
Do you wanna touch -  
Me  
Do you wanna touch -  
Me, yeah"

John smirked. He felt his night of embarrassment fading into something in the distance. But this would be a thrilling night indeed.

"Sherlock?" He hesitantly said, putting his bag down and shutting the door.

The boy in question turned, noticed him and gave him a drunken, lopsided grin.  
"Hi, pretty," he murmured and tried to stand up to greet John. He failed, sitting back on the bed and patting the comforter beside him. "Come, come sit with me, John."

John didn't really see a reason to say no and sat next to Sherlock, who was still grinning.

"Sherlock?" John asked again. "What are you doing?"

"I'm," Sherlock thought for a moment, considering something, then proceeded, "listening to some-, um, tasty, tunes." He giggled.

"Because,..." John said, hoping to get an explanation but also rather enjoying the explainer's current state. He was normally so closed up, so far away...

"Because," Sherlock replied, "y-you're.. Tasty. And I like - tunes." He smiled fondly at John.

The song ended and John remembered. It was the mix CD he'd given to Sherlock for his birthday. It was all The Smiths, seeing the boy loved their music almost to the point of obsession, but with one exception - "Do you wanna touch me" by Joan Jett. John couldn't explain it, but at the time he'd complied the CD it had been the funniest thing to him. Imagining Sherlock enjoying his mix and then being shocked by that one song. He didn't seem shocked now.

The next song started, waking Sherlock from his state of beaming at John. He turned the volume up another notch, the lyrics coming loudly now from both him and his laptop speakers:

"Hand in glove,  
We can go wherever we please  
And everything depends upon  
How near you stand to me,"

Sherlock looked at John again, and then, seeming to have decided something, pushed him to lay back on his bed. John's eyes widened in surprise as Sherlock clambered on to him and proceeded to lay down facing John. And, as if that hadn't just happened, continued with the song, just a tad more quietly:

"And if the people stare,  
Then the people stare -  
Oh, I really don't know  
And I really don't care!"

He rested his head on John's chest and traced patterns on his stomach with long fingers until the next song started, singing softly into the older boy's chest. It was by far the best John had ever felt, and still, he felt the quiver of guilt deep in his stomach. Sherlock was drunk. He couldn't know what he was doing, he would hate himself for it in the morning. 

The next song started. 

"...so please, please, please  
Let me, let me, let me, let me  
Get what I want, this time," 

The lyrics echoed in Sherlock's mouth and he pulled himself up to meet John's eyes. John felt quite relaxed. Nothing had happened. Nothing Sherlock couldn't back away from after. But then he pressed his lips - soft, pink, inviting - against John's jaw - tanned, worn, strong - and John wanted this, he wanted this more than anything; but he pushed Sherlock away.

"N-no, Sherlock? Don't- you'll, you'll regret it, don't, stop," he stammered. The younger boy sat up on John's hips, the look of utmost confusion on his face. It was so adorable John nearly pushed himself off the mattress to grab his face and kiss it better. But he couldn't, _he shouldn't, he really, really shouldn't._.. Sherlock then seemed to come to a realization and dipped his own hips, clenching his thighs around John's. 

John's world went white. He shook his head to snap himself out of it, out of giving in and letting Sherlock make the greatest mistake of his life. He tried grabbing at Sherlock's wrists, but the boy intertwined his long fingers with John's shorter, calloused ones. And he rocked himself again, on John's hips. He leaned down, barely touching his lips to John's ear.

"So," he sang and rocked his hips once more with the word, "for once in my life," and again; God, "let me," John couldn't stand it, "get what I want," he nipped at John's earlobe, "lord knows it would be the first time," a whisper against John's ear, followed by a slow grind on his hips.

The song ended, and so did the mix. John finally snapped himself out of his reverie and gently shoved Sherlock off him, standing up on shivering feet. 

"If you want to- if you really want to...-do it-..." he said to Sherlock, whose face lit up hearing those words, "tomorrow. When you're sober." Sherlock's face fell. John swallowed thickly. Right.

He couldn't bare to stay in that room any longer. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and uncharged sexual tension. He murmured a goodbye of sorts to Sherlock, then fled down the corridor to Mike's room and spent the night there. 

They'd have to have a talk about this sooner or later.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Johnlock](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905560) by [HanaWesty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanaWesty/pseuds/HanaWesty)




End file.
